


Hope Doesn't Grow Overnight

by HotAndColdAF



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, M/M, Medical Torture, Shiro (Voltron)'s Missing Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 04:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11844387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HotAndColdAF/pseuds/HotAndColdAF
Summary: Shiro's year with the Galra, as told from Ulaz's perspective.Not really shippy, but I wrote it as a person who does ship it so. Read it as you will.





	Hope Doesn't Grow Overnight

The first time Ulaz met Shiro, it had been a surprise. Or, to be more exact, the meeting itself was no surprise, but that it had cause to happen in the first place had been. To attend to gladiators after their matches, to close cuts and set broken bones before they were placed in a healing chamber to take care of the rest, that was simply standard procedure. Ulaz just... hadn't been expecting it to be necessary on that particular quintant. That quintant, the Champion was set to fight some fodder--random prisoners with no greater use than to die for the entertainment of their captors. With as brutal and experienced as Myzax was, it was rare that he sustained any injuries in such matches, and rarer still that his opponent earned the right to live.

So when Ulaz was ordered to administer treatment for the _new_ Champion, his first thought was that perhaps he'd misheard. And when he entered the examination room and saw Shiro for the first time, he was sure there must have been some sort of mistake. This small creature, with no natural armor or weapons to speak of, truly bested Myzax? It was unthinkable.

He crossed over to the room's terminal and pulled up the prisoner's file. Maybe there was something he was missing here. Shiro watched him from his seat on the edge of the examination table with wary curiosity, and once it was apparent that Ulaz would not be starting a conversation, he spoke first.

"Who are you? What do you want now?"

Ulaz ignored him. A primitive explorer from a still-developing planet, picked up by coincidence from the edges of his solar system. No weapons, no armor, no magical abilities, nothing noteworthy about his species in any way. This was some sort of joke, surely?

" _Hey._ " Shiro hopped down from the table and approached him. "Are you listening to me? I asked you a question."

"Sit down," Ulaz ordered impassively, not bothering to look up from the file he was still skimming.

"No. Not until you give me some answers. I'm tired of you people dragging me around from place to place without ever explaining anything."

"I told you to _sit down_ , Prisoner 117-9875. You are not in a position to be making demands."

"My name is _Shiro,_ " the supposed new Champion said, undeterred.

"I do not care," Ulaz replied, and at the time, it had been true. "Do not make me repeat myself again."

Shiro continued to stare up at him defiantly. "What are you going to do about it?"

With the way Shiro's chin was tilted up to make eye contact, it was all too easy for Ulaz to wrap his hand around his throat and lift him from the ground before he had a chance to react. He carried him back to the examination table like that, paying no mind to his struggling, and dropped him down on it roughly. Shiro doubled over and coughed harshly when released, but Ulaz ignored it in favor of moving on with the examination.

"Are you bleeding anywhere?"

"What?" came the response. Ulaz almost suspected him of trying his patience on purpose, but repeated his question nonetheless.

"Are you bleeding anywhere?"

Shiro stared at him in confusion for a few ticks before responding again. "Why do you care? Are you a doctor?"

Ulaz didn't answer. Rather than ask a third time, he decided to assume the answer was no. Myzax specialized in beating his opponents to death, after all; he wasn't likely to inflict any cuts deep enough to require pretreatment. The next question was the more important one in this case. "Are any of your bones broken?"

This time, Shiro's confused stare segued into a slow nod. "...Yeah." And then another, firmer nod. "Yeah, a couple of ribs. Or fractured, at least." He raised one of his arms to indicate the side and give Ulaz the space to feel for himself. The way the bones shifted under his touch and the pained grunt that came from Shiro alongside it confirmed the diagnosis. Well, nothing he could do for that unless he wanted to cut him open first, and that wouldn't be necessary.

"The healing chamber will take care of that. Anything else?"

"Healing chamber?" Shiro echoed, and Ulaz briefly wondered if he should reconsider his decision not to perform an unnecessary surgery. Instead he decided that such a response would serve as a no, which meant his obligations here were fulfilled and he was free to go.

Which he promptly did without another word.

\---

The second time Ulaz encountered Shiro, it was in the form of a dark blur slamming into him as soon as he opened the door to the examination room. The force of it was enough to knock him over, and he groaned as he watched Shiro run off down the hallway. He would have to chase after him, of course, and he would be expected to put forth his best effort in doing so. The problem being that the best effort expected from an aging doctor was far less than what Ulaz was actually capable of, and he was going to have to balance the two carefully to make this look right.

What an annoyance.

He rose to his feet and took off in pursuit. Thankfully, with their size difference, it didn't take much effort for him to actually catch up. As he reached out to grab his quarry, Shiro turned to look back at him, and Ulaz realized a moment too late that the expression on his face was not the look of fear he was expecting from a prisoner about to be apprehended, but the determined look of someone who knew exactly what he was doing. By then, Shiro already had one hand around Ulaz's wrist and the other braced against his chest, and he was using the Galra's own momentum to throw him forward to the ground.

Oh, Ulaz realized, staring up at the ceiling as Shiro continued running past him. _That_ was how so slight a creature could hold the title of Champion.

He let a few moments pass before he got back up, just in time to see Shiro turn back into the hallway from around a corner, closely pursued by a pair of sentries. By the time Ulaz caught up to them, they'd captured the would-be escapee, though he hadn't given up the fight just yet. Instead he struggled fruitlessly against the sentry's grip, shouting out his frustration.

"No! Let me go! I'm not going back there! You can't keep making me do this! It isn't right!"

He kept ranting like that as Ulaz approached. "Foolishness," the Galra said. "Trying to break out without even knowing the escape pods are in the _opposite_ direction."

That shut him up. Good. That meant he'd caught the hint. Unfortunately, it also made it a little _too_ obvious that he'd caught it, so Ulaz didn't let more than a moment pass before delivering an order to the sentries.

"Knock him out."

\---

The new Champion quickly gained himself a reputation among the medical staff of the ship. Myzax had never been much of a talker, but Shiro hardly ever shut up through his examinations, even though they all kept a strict policy of never responding to him any more than what was necessary to perform their duties.

Sometimes the things he spoke about were serious.

"Do you know what they make me do out there?" he asked once. "Doesn't it bother you? You're a doctor, right? Doesn't the sanctity of life mean something to you? You know what the first rule of doctors is where I'm from? It's 'do no harm.' But I guess you guys don't have that."

"Why do you even bother patching me up every time?" he asked on another occasion. "You know your bosses want me dead, right? I can tell. They want someone who'll make a show out of it all, like that other guy did. It must be driving them up the wall that I won't. That's why they're always keeping me at a disadvantage, I'm sure of it."

Sometimes, however, he chose more nonsense topics, clearly just trying to provoke a reaction.

"You look like a horse," he told Ulaz bluntly once, without ever bothering to explain what a horse was. "It's the mohawk, mostly, but the mask helps, too. It looks kind of like a feedbag. A lot of you guys look like cats or lizards, but you are definitely a horse. Do you have a matching tail under that skirt, too?"

"Why are you so pale? Don't you get enough sunlight? I know _I'm_ stuck in here, but don't they let _you_ go outside?"

Gradually, his comments became more and more inflammatory, picking up on any differences between his various captors as he could. He asked probing questions about Ulaz's coloration, his hair, his age, his height, the shape of his ears, the length of his fur, nothing seemed to escape his notice. 

That eventually came to a rather memorable end with one of the other medics storming out of the examination room with a bloodied nose.

"One of you guys tried to punch me yesterday," Shiro told Ulaz proudly afterwards. "I asked him why he was so short and I guess he didn't appreciate that. But you know what that means? It means that no matter how much you guys pretend to ignore me, you're still listening. I can still get through to you, sooner or later."

\---

Ulaz did not usually make a habit of going to watch the gladiatorial games, but he found that the longer Shiro managed to hold the title of Champion, the more curious he was to see him in action. Shiro was clever and resourceful, and there was no doubt in Ulaz's mind that those traits were serving him well as a fighter, but he was sensitive as well, and reluctant to kill. How did that affect his performance in the arena? Shiro had spoken of a refusal to make a show of things, of trying to make things as painless as possible for his opponents, but Ulaz wanted to see it for himself.

It would also be nice to know what injuries to expect before he actually walked into the examination room for once. Shiro would notice if he didn't ask the usual questions, he was sure, and perhaps he was curious to see what he'd say about that, as well.

But first, Shiro would have to survive.

His first opponent was determined not to make that an easy task. Tronagans did not have much of a reputation for cooperativeness to start with, after all, and this one--a female, if Ulaz had to hazard a guess from this distance--was fighting for her life. She was larger and stronger than Shiro just by virtue of her species, and her movements made it clear she was an experienced fighter, as well. A pirate whose luck had run short, most likely.

It didn't take long for her to earn the crowd's favor, no more than the few solid blows it took to prove she could actually stand up to him. Ulaz was a little surprised, actually. He'd known that Shiro's compassionate nature made him a less popular Champion than Myzax was, but he hadn't expected the crowd to turn on him quite so quickly.

It didn't make any difference in the end. The Tronagan fought well, well enough to leave Shiro with a broken arm and several other wounds beside, but not well enough to claim the victory. Even with his arm broken, Shiro was an incredible fighter. No, perhaps that broken arm was all the more proof of what an incredible fighter he really was. Not just anyone could possess the focus and determination necessary to keep fighting with such pain, much less the skill and clarity of mind needed to win despite it. He truly deserved the title of Champion; any lingering doubts Ulaz had about that were thoroughly dispelled by seeing him in action.

The rest of the crowd didn't seem to agree with him. Their jeers reached a crescendo as Shiro stood victorious over his opponent and looked towards Zarkon for his judgement. The Emperor did not respond immediately. The Tronagan had fought well, and it would not have surprised Ulaz if it was well enough to earn her continued survival. But apparently Zarkon felt it wasn't enough, and he made a gesture that indicated to Shiro to finish her off.

This was the part Ulaz was curious to see. Shiro's head dropped, the disappointment visible in his body language even at such a distance, but he readied his blade nonetheless and brought it down on the Tronagan's neck to end things in a single, swift motion. That was about what Ulaz had expected. He'd thought possibly that Shiro might refuse to finish a beaten foe, but if he was inclined to do that, he would have done it long ago and been punished accordingly. It would not surprise Ulaz in the slightest to learn that he _had_ \--he'd put GAC down on it, in fact, just as he had on Shiro's victory here--but if he did, it must have happened on some quintant where he was another medic's responsibility. With that option off the table, ending things quickly was the most mercy Shiro could provide.

That was still much more mercy than Myzax ever gave, and it was clear enough which the crowd preferred. They kept jeering and booing even as the next opponent was released into the arena. This one also tried to fight back, but unlike the Tronagan, they were no match for Shiro, even with his handicap. Again, Shiro looked up towards Zarkon before striking the finishing blow, and even though the verdict of death was a foregone conclusion this time, he looked every bit as disappointed and sorrowful to receive it as he was before. Ulaz didn't doubt that Shiro went through this ritual with every opponent he faced, no matter how obvious the answer was. That sort of stubborn hope was admirable, in a way. He could've made a good Blade if he were Galra, and as things were, he'd surely contribute greatly to some other rebel group if he could manage to escape.

The third opponent sent out into the arena was a Bailoxan, a species smaller than humans, and known for their peaceful natures. Unlike the first two fights, there was a long pause before anything happened, and it took Ulaz some time to realize what the difference was. The first two opponents had acted quickly enough that it wasn't clear, but with an opponent who didn't want to fight, it became obvious: Shiro refused to strike first. How sentimental, and also foolish. That had surely cost him the advantage many times before.

Unrest spread through the crowd the longer nothing happened, until eventually Shiro took a step forward. Apparently that was too much for the Bailoxan. They suddenly dropped their weapon and... tackled Shiro? No, a... hug. It was a hug. Shiro didn't seem to know what to make of it at first, either, staying motionless even as the jeers of the crowd grew worse.

And then, slowly, Shiro let go of his weapon, letting the blade drop to the arena floor. Ulaz felt his stomach drop with it. The roar of the crowd crescendoed unpleasantly as Shiro wrapped his arms around the Bailoxan in turn, and Ulaz almost felt tempted to add his own voice to it, albeit with a rather different sentiment. This was senseless, it would accomplish nothing, surely he realized he was only throwing his life away by doing this?

Already, sentries were rushing into the arena, guns drawn. Shiro and the Bailoxan separated, the smaller alien retreating to hide behind one of the arena's pillars while Shiro ducked to retrieve his weapon and go on the offensive. The sentries fell in short order, but Ulaz knew Shiro wouldn't be able to keep this up much longer. The sentries had numbers and range on their side, and Shiro had a broken arm. Adrenaline couldn't overpower the pain forever.

This wasn't something he needed to see, Ulaz decided. The outcome was predetermined, and he would gain nothing from watching the actual process. It was time to leave.

\---

Ulaz heard the exact results later, and they were basically what he expected. The Bailoxan had been killed, and the Druids had Shiro now. It was also no surprise when he was summoned to operate on the suspended Champion.

What _was_ surprising was entering the operating room to find Haggar herself there. He recovered from his shock quickly enough to give a properly respectful salute. She didn't seem to think much of it--likely she was accustomed to such reactions.

"I want a closer look at Champion's heart and lungs," she ordered, and Ulaz nodded and approached the operating table.

Shiro looked--awful was too gentle a word for it. It was clear that his broken arm had been left unset, given how unpleasantly swollen it was. His hair had been left to grow out since the last time Ulaz saw him. It clung to his forehead, and the dark strands plastered against his skin emphasized how badly the color had drained from his face. And even though his eyes moved to follow Ulaz's approach, they lacked their usual focus and clarity. Instead, they were half-closed and bloodshot, with his fatigue written across the lower lids in deep purple.

Ulaz could tell with a single glance: Shiro would not survive being operated on in this state.

But there was nothing he could do about that. Protesting would spare Shiro nothing and would only serve to weaken his own position. All he could do was make his own part in this as quick and painless as possible. For both of them.

Shiro spoke as Ulaz readied his scalpel, but the utterance was too quiet and mumbled to make any sense of, and it soon gave way to pained screaming as Ulaz began his work. The screams were quiet, too, voiceless from long since screaming himself hoarse. At least that made it easier to ignore them.

Ulaz cut through flesh, and then through bone, and soon he had the way to Shiro's heart and lungs completely open. He'd seen images of them before, in scans of Shiro's systems, but seeing the organs themselves like this, seeing them actually _moving_ , was... striking. They moved so much more than Ulaz had been expecting them to. Galra lungs were similarly large, but that size was for keeping air in reserve, for use in environments without any. That Shiro's lungs needed to keep cycling air, despite their size... the inefficiency of it was almost incredible.

Shiro had lost consciousness by now, and that movement was the only indicator that he wasn't dead yet. The rhythm was slowing, however, and it wasn't going to take long for it to stop entirely.

Haggar studied the view silently for a while, and Ulaz wondered if she intended to simply watch as he bled out, but then she reached over into the chest cavity and spoke. "Having two lungs this large is redundant."

And with a single gesture, she severed the connection between one of his lungs and his windpipe.

Shiro's reaction was immediate, an involuntary gasp quickly giving way to a violent coughing fit that had him pulling against his bonds. The harsh percussive sounds seemed almost impossibly loud compared to the voiceless noises he'd been making earlier, and the way they echoed around the otherwise silent operating room made Ulaz feel like his own chest was being torn apart. Inside Shiro's chest, the previously slowing pace of his heart was now rapidly accelerating, trying to keep pace with his struggling remaining lung. It convulsed with every cough, and every tortured expulsion of air left a new splatter of dark red blood across Shiro's mouth.

But all too quickly the coughing gave way to strained wheezing, and then silence as Shiro's lung stopped moving, shortly followed by his heart. Ulaz was about to begin preparing the body for disposal when Haggar grabbed a fistful of Shiro's hair. Her hand glowed with magic, and so did his open chest as his severed lung reattached itself and his heart resumed beating.

Again, Shiro gasped and coughed blood, but this time clearing his airway was not a fruitless endeavor, and instead of wheezing, it gave way to pained sobbing. Haggar leaned in close to his face, her fingers still entangled in his hair. "Do you understand, Champion? Not even death will allow you to escape me."

She straightened up and faced Ulaz. "That's enough for today. Close him back up and see to it that he's returned to his cell."

Ulaz saluted in response as she walked away, thankful that his surgical mask spared him from having to hide the full extent of his horror. He hadn't known Haggar was capable of that. His next report to Kolivan was sure to be an interesting one.

But before that, Shiro. He turned his attention back to the weeping Champion and was surprised to notice that some of the hair where Haggar had grabbed him had turned stark white. He'd have to make note of that in his report as well; it could be a clue about how the witch's powers worked. Or perhaps being brought back from the brink of death was simply more stress than Shiro's body could take. Despite that, he seemed healthier now than he did when Ulaz first entered the room, and this time when he spoke, it was actually audible, if only barely.

"Please," he whispered hoarsely between choked sobs. "Stop this. _Please_."

It would be so easy to drive a scalpel into his heart.

It would be a mercy.

It would be suicide.

As sympathetic as Ulaz was to Shiro's plight, he was not about to sacrifice everything to help him escape it. So he did as he usually did and ignored him. Or, at least, pretended to.

\---

"I grow tired of Champion," Ulaz complained to another medical officer after completing another torture session.

"Really?" the other doctor replied, glancing up briefly from the terminal he was working at. "Most of us find him much more tolerable now that he doesn't speak so much."

"That is not what I meant. I don't understand why the Druids continue to waste time with him. Champion or not, he's nothing more than a slave. They should kill him for his defiance and be finished with it."

The other doctor frowned, glanced at the door, and then spoke in an almost conspiratorial tone. "Well, you didn't hear this from me, but word from the lower levels is that ever since Champion pulled his little stunt, some of the other prisoners have been rioting, almost non-stop. They kill Champion, and they escalate him from an inspiration to a martyr. They'll never get things back under control then."

"But if they bend him to their will, he will serve as an excellent example of the futility of resistance," Ulaz finished. The other doctor nodded. "And what if he does not break?"

"If it comes to that, I don't want to be in the room when they figure it out. You don't really think that could happen, though, do you?"

"If anyone is stubborn enough for it, it would be Champion."

The other doctor grimaced. "I'd be careful who I say that kind of thing around, if I were you. You never know who might be listening."

Perhaps he was right; perhaps Ulaz had said too much. He grimaced back. "I never said it was admirable."

It was, though, that Shiro had endured such torture and still had yet to surrender. Ulaz made sure to include the details of that conversation in his next report to Kolivan, along with the suggestion to free Shiro.

Kolivan rejected the suggestion. It was not worth compromising Ulaz's cover to incite a rebellion that could only fail, he argued, and Ulaz couldn't come up with an adequate counter-argument. Not yet, at least.

\---

"Medical Officer Ulaz."

Ulaz nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice so close behind him. He hadn't heard anyone approach, so it wasn't really a surprise when he turned around and found himself face-to-mask with one of the Druids. They didn't require the same level of respect that Haggar herself did, and so he only gave a polite nod of acknowledgement instead of a proper salute. The Druid continued.

"You will be pleased to learn that Champion has given in. He will be returning to the arena soon."

Ulaz carefully kept his expression neutral, letting no signs of the great disappointment he felt show through. He was being tested, almost certainly. He had thought he had chosen his words well enough to disguise his sympathy, but perhaps just enough had slipped through to arouse suspicion. Or perhaps the rebellion Shiro had already inspired had the Druids tense enough to want to stamp out anything that resembled regard for him.

Either way, Ulaz had no intention of failing this test. "That is good," he answered, and waited patiently for the follow-up that was sure to come.

"There is, however, the matter of his broken arm. What is your diagnosis?"

There it was. A simple enough test to pass. "I would need to see a current scan to be certain, but from what I have seen of Champion's physiology, the bone has likely healed in its misaligned state by now. To repair it, it would need to be rebroken and then set properly." That wasn't the answer the Druid was looking for, Ulaz knew, so as much as he was loathe to, he continued. "However, the limb would be permanently weakened. If Champion is to retain his former presence in the arena, I would recommend his arm be amputated and replaced with a prosthetic."

The Druid was silent for a while before responding--an intimidation tactic that Ulaz refused to let bother him. "That was our thinking as well. You will perform the procedure."

It wasn't a request, or even an order. It was a simple statement of fact. Ulaz was going to perform the procedure. He nodded his acknowledgment.

It was a simple enough test to pass, but it wasn't going to be a pleasant one.

\---

If nothing else, Shiro looked much healthier than he had the last few times Ulaz had seen him. His surrender had seen several lost privileges returned to him: proper meals, proper rest, proper grooming--his hair was shorn back to its initial length, though the shock of white at his forehead remained.

But that just meant he was healthy enough to struggle again. He pulled against the shackles holding him to the operating table and pleaded openly with the gathered Druids. "Why are you doing this?! I already said I'll fight again! I'll do it! I'll do anything you tell me to! Just, please, stop! I can't--I can't take any more!"

He immediately fell silent when Haggar entered the room, and his improved health seemed to vanish in an instant. The color drained from his face, his eyes went wide, and he began to visibly tremble.

"You should be happy, Champion. I've brought you a gift, to celebrate your return to the arena." She gestured to Ulaz to begin, and he stepped forward towards the table, saw in hand. Shiro watched him approach, and Ulaz could see the exact moment when he realized what was happening.

"No!" he shouted, pulling frantically against his bonds. "Don't do this! You can still fix it!" Ulaz held down Shiro's upper arm and readied his saw. "You don't have to do this! Please, don't--" The rest was lost in screams of pain as Ulaz began cutting through Shiro's arm. This much, at least, was not torture for torture's sake--attaching a prosthetic like this required the subject to be conscious and alert, to ensure the neural pathways connected correctly.

That it was necessary did not make Shiro's begging and screaming throughout the process any less unpleasant to listen to.

\---

Shiro didn't talk any more. He simply sat in silence during the examinations that followed his fights, staring blankly down at the artificial arm cradled in his real one. Even when asked the usual questions, he responded only with a shake of his head or a gesture to indicate the damaged area. If Ulaz hadn't known better, he might've thought the Druids had damaged his vocal chords.

It was a pathetic sight, seeing this proud and stubborn man broken down like this, and a disappointing one. Ulaz truly believed that Shiro could've accomplished great things if he'd been freed, but now it was too late.

Or so he'd thought, before he entered the examination room to find Shiro standing at the room's terminal, hastily closing the window he'd had open--though not so quickly Ulaz couldn't tell that it was a map of the ship's interior. The contrast of the moment was striking. Ulaz had caught Shiro at that terminal before, early on in his imprisonment. He hadn't been able to operate it then--the terminal was programmed to only respond to Galra users, though the prosthetic was apparently Galra enough to count--but he had been expertly mimicking the actions required to activate it, and when Ulaz had entered the room, he'd looked up and asked how to turn it on, boldly, fearlessly.

Now when he was caught, Shiro looked up and froze in silent terror. Ulaz considered how to respond for a brief moment, then decided it was best to be consistent. As he had when he caught Shiro the first time, he picked him up by the neck and deposited him back on the examination table.

"Are you bleeding anywhere?" he asked, proceeding on with his examination.

For the first time since he replaced his arm, Ulaz heard Shiro's voice. "You're not going to punish me?" he asked quietly. His voice was hoarse and ragged--from misuse, Ulaz hoped, and not damage from screaming--but there was something almost hopeful in it, under the fear.

"Are you bleeding anywhere?" Ulaz repeated, in a tone that made it clear he had better not have to repeat himself again. Shiro nodded and silently offered his left arm. A deep laceration crossed over his forearm, and Ulaz set about closing it. He could tell Shiro was studying his face as he worked, but paid it no mind.

At least, not until Shiro's eyes widened and he suddenly ripped his arm from Ulaz's grip.

"You--You're the one who took my arm," he accused. He held onto his left arm, like he was afraid Ulaz would take that one, too, if he gave him the chance. "It was you. You cut me apart. You're a _monster--_ "

He raised the arm in question, and a flash of circuitry traveled down it before the hand started glowing in violent purple. But he never got the chance to swing it. Dark magic surrounded the hand, and Shiro doubled over in pain.

Ulaz waited patiently for it to pass and the light to fade from Shiro's hand before he gently dislodged his left arm from his right and resumed treatment. His claws had left new wounds on the arm when Shiro had pulled it away from him, and though they were minor enough that it would surely be fine to leave them for the healing chamber to take care of, Ulaz went ahead and treated them as well.

Shiro muttered quietly while he worked. The agony from the safeguard had left him in tears and robbed his words of any aggression, but it did nothing to stop the sentiment that had led to the attempt in the first place. "I hate you. I _hate_ you. I hope you die, I hope you all just _die_."

Ulaz didn't respond. Even if it was permissible, there was nothing to say. He simply finished his work in silence and then left to go write his report.

It was a struggle to keep his hands steady as he keyed the words into the terminal. It wasn't the near brush with death that had him so unnerved. He was a member of the Blade of Marmora, working deep undercover. Death was a possibility he had long since made his peace with.

What bothered him was that, in that split second between Shiro activating his hand's power and the safeguard kicking in, he'd accepted it. He'd had an instant in which to decide whether or not to defend himself, and in that instant, the conclusion he came to was that it would be better not to. That it would be unjust to deny Shiro his vengeance.

It was an unacceptable way of thinking. He had gone into this assignment knowing full well it would require him to hurt many innocent people. Shiro was not the first, and was not likely to be the last, either. They were all necessary sacrifices for the sake of the Blade's mission, and to throw all that away to satisfy one man's anger would be unthinkable.

And yet he had thought it. In that instant, he'd almost _wanted_ it.

This couldn't be allowed to continue. No matter what Kolivan said, Shiro needed to be freed, or else he'd surely be the end of Ulaz, one way or another.

\---

He almost didn't get the chance. It wasn't really a surprise to hear Shiro had made an escape attempt on his own, or even that he'd gotten as far as he did, but Ulaz pretended it was, and that he wasn't disappointed that the attempt was unsuccessful.

He didn't hear what Shiro's punishment for trying to escape was, but this time it wasn't long before Champion returned to the arena and thus to the examination room, and now Ulaz and the other medical officers had strict orders to keep the viewport on the door closed while he was inside. Ulaz had noticed Shiro would stare out the viewport and tap his fingers during examinations, but he had dismissed the behavior as actions born of impatience and frustration. Perhaps eventually he would learn not to underestimate him.

In the meantime, he continued to work on his own preparations. A ship for his own escape, a bomb set near the escape pods. The hardest part would be in creating the opportunity for an escape at all. Ever since Shiro's first escape attempt, guards were kept posted outside the room during his examinations, so that wouldn't be a feasible avenue. As a doctor, he would be too out of place going to Shiro's cell, and even if he stole a guard's uniform, Champion was never supposed to be escorted by any fewer than two guards at once. He was left with very little room to maneuver.

And then the perfect opportunity dropped itself into his lap.

The Blue Lion had been located on Champion's home planet, he was informed. The Champion would get it for them, but, of course, certain procedures would need to be performed first, to ensure his cooperation. Procedures to be performed by Ulaz.

He would _not_ be performing these procedures.

It was fortunate that he'd already been making preparations for freeing Shiro; he had scarcely enough time to set the timer on his bomb and then send a message to Kolivan informing him of what he was about to do. There wasn't enough time to wait for a response, but that was probably for the best. Even if Kolivan disagreed that keeping the Blue Lion out of the Empire's hands was a good enough reason to act, there was no way he could dissuade Ulaz at this point. Better that he not get the chance. Ulaz would deal with the consequences later.

In the end, it would be fine. No matter how mad Kolivan got about this, he would have to admit Ulaz was right when Shiro brought them the Blue Lion. This would be a major turning point in the war, he'd see that.

\---

Shiro never brought the Blue Lion to the Thaldycon base, and the more time passed, the more worried Ulaz grew. Had he been wrong? Freeing Shiro _had_ been a gamble, but he'd been confident in Shiro's ability to beat the odds. He'd always done so well with that before. But this was on a wholly different scale. Maybe it was simply too much.

No. He couldn't give up so easily. As long as there wasn't any news of the Blue Lion's successful reclamation by the Empire, there was still hope.

News of the Blue Lion's reclamation by the Empire _also_ never came to the Thaldycon base. The news that eventually reached Ulaz instead was much more surprising, but also much more welcome. After 10,000 years, Voltron had finally been reformed, and was working against the Galra Empire. Ulaz could almost laugh.

When was he ever going to learn to stop underestimating Shiro?


End file.
